


late for the love of my life

by richiehozier (stoletheshow)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoletheshow/pseuds/richiehozier
Summary: Richie wasn’t expecting the boy from his dreams to show up on the first day of school in athletic shorts and a fanny pack like something straight out of an 80’s film, but he lets his expectations shift without a second thought or an ounce of hesitation.





	late for the love of my life

**Author's Note:**

> the beginning is a little confusing i know. hmu if you have questions.  
> warnings for (past) character death

**Then**

_It feels more like a memory than a dream. Richie’s eleven the first time it happens._

_He sees himself, but older, kneeling beside a man he can’t quite place. He loves him, Richie knows that much, feels it sharp and clear, cutting through the haziness of whatever universe he’s in._

_The man is crying, pleading with him to “please go! Leave, Rich!” but he feels rooted in place, like leaving him was never an option._

_He hears the yelling before he notices the heat, smells the smoke. It’s as if all of his senses were coming back to him one at a time—too little too late._

_They’re in a house, he realizes. The windows are broken and there’s smoke and flames surrounding them. There’s no way out._

_“We’re going to die”, Richie thinks. He knows._

_“Hey, Eds” dream Richie says, the name falling from his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s said a million times before. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?” He jokes, because it feels right._

_The man laughs weakly, and if that’s the last thing Richie hears before their world burns down then he supposes he’ll die happy._

_They stay like that for a while, silent, together, until the air gets too thick for them to breathe properly._

_“I’ll find you again.” The man says. He grabs Richie’s hand. Richie doesn’t know what that means, exactly, but it feels like something much bigger than the both of them._

_He watches, helpless, through a cloud of smoke, as the man he loves takes his last breath and feels his heart break. He doesn’t cry, though, can’t. Every breath feels like someone lit a match in his throat. Seconds or a lifetime later, everything fades to black._

The dreams come more frequently after that. Sometimes he’s older, sometimes not. And they almost always end in misery.

Richie wakes up some nights, crying tears that aren’t really his, for a love that he hasn’t yet known.

 _Eds_ , his mind supplies helpfully. _Eddie_.

 

**2017**

It’s only the first day of junior year, but Richie’s already missing the summer.

He can’t focus. He’s sitting through his last class, ready to crawl out of his own skin. It’s not dread Richie’s feeling, not exactly, but there’s something like anxiety settling deep in his gut for reasons he can’t explain. He almost feels sick with it.

Richie’s considering walking out and letting his teacher know exactly where he can shove his trigonometric ratios—who lectures on the first day of class, what the fuck—when the boy walks in.

He’s small-- smaller than Richie remembers-- and when he locks eyes with Richie, looking surprised and so, so pleased, Richie feels like he ran into a wall—or like a wall ran into him.

He wasn’t expecting the boy from his dreams to show up on the first day of school in athletic shorts and a fanny pack like something straight out of an 80’s film, but he lets his expectations shift without a second thought or an ounce of hesitation, none at all.

+

It's the longest 50 minutes of his _life_.

Distantly, he’s aware that his teacher’s still going on about formulas he’ll probably never use after high school; something about SOCAHTOA, whatever that is, but all Richie can focus on is the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

He keeps glancing at the boy—Eddie—and every time he looks, Eddie’s eyes are already on him, gaze steady and intent.

Richie’s thoughts are going a million miles a second, he has so much to say, so many questions, but when the final bell rings and it’s just the two of them left sitting there, it’s like all thought abandons him.

“You’re… you.” Richie states eloquently, and Eddie’s laugh has a mocking hint to it that Richie’s already in love with.

“I’m me. Eddie Kaspbrak. Nice to meet you again….?” He trails off, raising two expectant brows.

“Richie. Tozier.”

“Tozier.” Eddie mouths to himself, like he’s trying the name out. Richie likes the way it looks on his lips.

It takes a few seconds for his words to register.

“Meet me again?” Richie asks. “As in we’ve _met_ before?”

“You don’t remember?” If he didn’t know any better, Richie would think Eddie sounded hurt.

“I don’t—uhhh,” There’s no appropriate way to tell someone you’ve been dreaming about them since you were a kid, so for once in his life, Richie keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie’s face goes sad for a second before it’s replaced by a fierce determination.

“Come with me.” He says, standing up and all but dragging Richie out of the classroom by his sleeve.

Richie’s hit with something like nostalgia in that moment, maybe déjà vu. Like where Eddie goes, he follows, same as it’s always been.

“Let me see your arm.” Eddie demands once they’re in an empty locker room, safe from any prying eyes or ears.

Richie holds out his left arm, and Eddie pushes up his sleeve. He hums, pleased with what he sees, like one of his suspicions was confirmed.

 “You got a thing for birthmarks and scars, man? Is that what does it for you?” Richie laughs nervously, “Because if that’s the case you should see the one I have on my a—”

“Stop talking now, please.” Eddie says calmly. “And it’s not a birthmark, dumbass. It’s a soulmark. I have the same one. See?” He thrusts his wrist in Richie’s face, showing him and identical mark to his own.

“Woah,” Richie breathes, grabbing his arm to closer inspect it. It’s the same shape and size as the one he has. “How is that possible?”

“You really don’t know.” And that’s definitely hurt coloring Eddie’s tone.

“I don’t know anything except that-- ” He cuts himself off.

“Except what, Richie?” Eddie presses.

“That I’ve been dreaming about different versions of you, or us really, since I was like eleven, man, what the hell?”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, suppressing a smile. He sits down on one of the benches and pats the spot next to him. “Tell me about them.”

So, Richie does.

He starts with the first dream, the one with the flames. He tells Eddie everything, from all the lives he’s seen him live, to all the deaths he’s seen him die.

Richie’s drained by the time he finishes. “You just—you keep dying, Eddie.” He says weakly.

Eddie smiles, but it’s sad. “I do that.”

“Do I ever save you?”

Eddie pauses. “You always try.” He admits.

And for some reason, that makes Richie feel worse.

+

“So, you’re telling me these dreams I’ve been having since I was a kid aren’t even dreams.” Richie starts  “They’re like…”

“Memories, yeah. They’re not dreams at all. Everything you’ve seen has actually happened.”

“How do you know this? How are you so calm, how do you _know this_?” Richie demands, more than a little hysterical.

“Because it’s my life _,_ Richie!” Eddie yells and Richie’s taken aback for a second. “Every dream that you’ve had, feels like it happened yesterday for me. Every detail that you can’t make out has been in my brain for as long as I can remember. I’ve been looking for you my whole life and you don’t even remember me!”

Eddie’s breathing is ragged, and he’s shaking a little bit, overwhelmed by emotion and Richie is so sorry.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he voices, because it’s the truth and there’s nothing else to really say.

It takes Eddie a while to regain his composure, but when he does, he smiles up at Richie.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’ll come back to you, Rich, it always does,” his smile turns conspiratorial “You always have been a little slower than me.”

Richie pushes him off the bench.

**Author's Note:**

> idk how i feel abt this still but i've already started the next chapter. where is it going? wish i knew, guys!  
> comments/questions/critiques appreciated !!


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